Watching Your Universe Cooling Down
by CaffeineChic
Summary: A hand stretched across the divide


She has had sisters for her entire life. An unending family. A twin of a twin of a twin. Sisters, mirrors, her own face staring back at her, her own voice from another's mouth. Skin, hair, fingerprints, the single tiny mole behind her right ear... all identically reflected off her sisters. And her sisters reflecting off her.

She has sisters that do not bear her face but bore each other's instead. The Threes, the older sisters, self-sufficient from the rest, from each other. Looking out for themselves, but the others too when it was called for (when it suited them).

The Eights, the younger model, so innocent in some ways and in need of mothering. Children dancing without their clothes on, feeling no shame (before that was all they felt).

They are all family. She will always have family. She thinks with not a little sadness that this is less true now—her sisters can die. So can she. She could lose them forever, in some ways she already has. She could truly be alone. But she has always had family.

She has never had a friend.

Not really. Not truly. Boomer... before... before a plan borne from the love of human men so completely failed and destroyed them both in different ways, Boomer—it wasn't friendship, it was desperation, both trying to clamber across the divide of genetics and mechanics. Family, not friends. They loved each other because they had always been, would always be, family.

D'Anna... not once, not for an instant. She shared her heart with D'Anna, shared the man she loved with her. But did not share a friendship. She could love D'Anna as God instructed and love D'Anna as her heart cried out to, but she could not love her as a friend. Could not trust, could not confide, could never entrust a sacred possession to her care for fear of it never returning. She would forever love her as she was family, but she would hurt from her too for just as long.

Even before a planet had fallen and a woman had risen from its ruin with its name emblazoned on her head, she had had no one. Gaius... was her lover. Her love. Her light on the other side of the divide, calling her across. But he was not who she spoke to about fears and worries, about happiness and simple joys. He would not have listened. No one to just talk to.

Saul is her lover. The father of her child. She knows she will spend her (now mortal) life at his side. But there are some things that she cannot say to him, knows that there are many that he cannot say to her. Even without the nature of their relationship, they would be family given the mechanics of his genetics. They are from the same side of the divide—she is still trying to cross, he is trying to deny he ever did. She has had no one to speak to _about_ him, about them.

There is a void inside of her that she has always covered over with family. She has spent months in a cell, alone. Not even Sharon, Athena... the only one who must truly know her pain. They could share so much, ease each other's wounds, but Athena had crossed the divide, she was not looking back for others, not even as her daughter was the first to be astride it.

Caprica knows she is not the Six of the dreams. She does not understand it. It is her, but not her. She cannot prove it. They are a family without trust.

She is lonely. She stops. She thinks. She corrects herself. She was lonely.

She has never had a friend.

Until now.

The worlds—world (for two are merging into one, a divide lessening) is different now. Two months ago she would not have entertained the idea that Laura Roslin would choose her company. They share a vision, though not by choice, but now they share time, waking hours. Laura Roslin speaks to her as she does anyone else—except not. There is something else to her tone, something that Caprica could not identify for weeks, a small inflection that stood out to her ears. But then she passes two women in the halls of Galactica (some part of her always shies away from other women in the halls of Galactica, a twin's and a sister's blood still painted its walls, to her at least) and hears the tone, the inflection. Friends. These women are friends.

She is so startled by the realization that she stops in her tracks. Noticing the wary looks of crewmen around her (they needed more time—so ironic now that time was the one thing Cylons no longer had in abundance), she proceeds to Life Station. She knows Laura will be there. Laura who permits her to call her Laura. Who refers to the Admiral as Bill, who asks after Saul and rolls her eyes at her over some comment from Cottle. She has never had a friend before, she had not known what it looked like, what it sounded like, how single worlds could shape it and frame it and define it so. She was aware of the power of names, but only in how they singled people out. Separated a twin from the set, a sister from the masses. She had not realised that they could join too. Titles for names, a simple switch that pulled people closer.

She knows loneliness. Had been wrapped and held by it, cocooned in its embrace. She thinks that Laura must have known it too. She knows that the Admiral is Laura's friend, had been so before they became a family. But she thinks there is something different in the friendship of women. And she senses that Tory (who is now her family too) betrayed Laura beyond being Cylon and sleeping with Gaius (she knows this—it does not hurt as once it would have). Something else has happened, for Caprica is Cylon and has slept with (and loved) Gaius, but Laura speaks to her with friendship in her voice.

Laura listens to her after she and Saul argue (she is still trying to cross the divide, he is still railing that he has come from her side of it). She and Gaius did not fight—the mission filling in blanks that love did not. They frakked and she fixed. And Gaius was always happiest being Gaius. Saul is still figuring himself out and fighting to be happy at all.

She thinks sometimes that Saul hates himself with the purest of rage. That he hates her too, and the baby. She has never hated. It is not in her nature, not part of God's plan for her. She has never hated what she is, only ached to be what she is not. She does not know how to heal this hurt within him with anything but love. She has to love enough for the three of them now, and carrying the weight of that silently has been crushing her.

Laura who listens while she talks, who lets her continue when she is rambling, incoherent even. But she has never had a friend and doesn't know how to phrase the words right. Her twins and sisters would have understood what she was saying but not what she was trying to say. Laura does. Laura refers to Bill as the Admiral when they have had a fight, taking his name back and stamping his title on him for the duration of their discourse. Laura who has, for reasons kept between herself and Bill, made peace with the new nature of the combining worlds.

Caprica finds her lying on her usual bed, her usual IV pole (there is a white sticker, half torn off at its midpoint) beside her, her book (_Searider Falcon_—she thinks Laura has read this many times now; she has never seen her read the final chapters) open in front of her. Caprica clears her throat so as not to startle her. "Laura?"

"Caprica." Laura's smile is warm, the book closing as she gestures for her to sit. "Cabin fever again?"

She sits and smiles, relaxing in this woman's presence, instantly at ease in a way she is not accustomed to (Is this how it is for humans? Is she one step closer to crossing the divide?). "Yes." The admission is like a sigh of relief, pent-up frustration expelled in a single word.

There is something more confining about being kept in a room that she is free to leave than in a cell in which she is not. It has to do with choice and a thin line between can and can't. She chooses to stay, she _can_ leave. But equally, she can't. And really, there are only so many places a pregnant Cylon (who does not wear dog tags) can go on a Battlestar. Civilian spots are hardly welcoming (though not nearly as discouraging as once before—everyone _has_ to try now, everyone _is_ trying).

"I think Saul would still prefer it if I stayed in our quarters." She knows he would. They have argued about it, often. Laura has listened and counselled just as often. "But…" she trails off, grins with a hint of childish wickedness. She won't be kept in place.  
Laura matches her smile, neither are woman to be forced still by others, not even by the men they love—sometimes especially not by them. Caprica watches as Laura leans back, regards her, and she can see a question being formed, the words being chosen with care.

"Do you worry about Saul being on the planet without you...with so many..._yous?_"

She recognises the question for what it is. It is not asked to be offensive, it is not asked to denigrate her relationship with Saul—it is a question of culture. How much do you share? Where does your love draw a line? Where do your sisters? How much should _I_ worry?

She breathes deep and easy, she does not look away, she knows who and what she is (just not what she will _be_). "God teaches us to love and to respect the love of others. My sisters... he is a Final Five... they would not (would she, if she had known first?)…." She smiles to herself, knowing her sisters, a connection that will never be broken. "But regardless, he is mine so they will not pursue him. We do not steal from each other. We do not steal love; husbands or wives."

She looks Laura in the eye, proud of this character trait of her line, and eager to assure her friend that she need not be concerned either. She sees something, a flick of something cross Laura's eyes... and knows—Laura has not always been able to claim such a thing. She thinks a balance has shifted slightly between them with this fact.

"The Sharons won't either." She does not call them Eights, has not since she and Boomer were both reborn for the first time. Since they clasped each other's hands and stared up from darkness and into the promise of light. Her model has always been closer to them, these younger sisters under their wings.

"The Threes..." A dark shadow falls across Caprica's face. She fights to forgive. "Be glad D'Anna is the only one left." She knows she should feel guiltier at such a thought than she does. A sister who stands without her humanoid echoes, forever more. She fights harder to forgive.

Laura is looking at her with something akin to relief. Caprica frowns lightly. "You cannot worry—not about the Admiral, surely? His eyes don't wander. He sees only you." She watches as Laura casts her eyes in the direction of the nurse on duty, Caprica has seen her before (and seen how she looks at the Admiral) and realises that Laura does not worry about _his_ actions.

Her friend (she relishes the word now, thanks God for such a gift) speaks softly. "I know. I do... but he's walking around down there (healthy, on solid ground). And I'm flying up here (dying amongst the stars)."

Laura trails off, her thoughts clearly less concerned with the jealousy of other women, simply the health of them. "... I'm sorry, I'm feeling slightly melancholic today. It feels like these treatments are never going to end. And Earth was supposed to be... not this."

Caprica watches her exhale slowly, gathering the facts on her inhale. "My aide, was, _is_ a Cylon, as is my husband's brother (for really, how else can they be referred to as?). As are you, who, quite frankly, is suddenly my closest female friend. Nothing is quite as I imagined but it doesn't feel as wrong as it should. I'm rambling. Frakking Diloxin. Forgive me. How is the baby?"

Caprica smiles and feels like light is pulsing through her veins, lighting her like a star. Her hands instinctively touch her stomach, stroking through her shirt. "Perfect, growing, Cottle says she's fine."

"You know she's a girl?"

"_I_ know she's a girl. You... do, did you have children?" She wishes she could swallow the question back as soon as she asks. (Is this too personal? Does it cross a line she is not supposed to? Did her friend's children perish with the Colonies?)

Laura appears to not notice her discomfort, her regret at asking. "No. No. I was happy with teaching other people's..." She laughs gently, at peace with how things have turned out for her. "Plus timing... and... well, I found the right man far too late for us to... anyway. He has enough children for the both of us."

They are silent for a time, enjoying the company without the need for conversation, both lost in thought of children and partners and futures unfolding. Caprica catches sight of the Admiral coming into Life Station, inclines her head in his direction for Laura, who breaks their silence, quickly, quietly. "We're still in agreement about later?"

Caprica nods once.

"Hey." The Admiral joins them, reaching out to take Laura's hand, squeezing her fingers tightly.

"Hi."

"Caprica."

"Admiral." They are still formal with each other—she knows that Laura is further along the path of acceptance than most people, that she is pulling this man along after her. He is never rude or overly gruff with her. She knows he is trying.

The nurse comes in to remove Laura's IV, her eyes flicking to the Admiral, not unseen by Laura or Caprica. The two women catch each other's eyes and glance at Bill then back to each other, noting his obliviousness to the nurse's obvious crush. They both giggle.

"What?"

Laura tugs him down and kisses his cheek. "I'll tell you later."

Caprica stands, knowing the time between Laura and the Admiral is as precious to them as her time is to her with Saul. "I should go back to my… Saul's... my quarters."

"No, wait. We're done here, we'll walk you back." Laura is already moving to stand.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. But..." The crew is still adjusting to seeing so many (different) identical faces, the President and the Admiral walking with her will only help.

"Ok."

Bill helps Laura to her feet, an elbow offered out and accepted (as always) as the three of them leave Life Station.

"Saul should be up from the planet soon. He's coordinating with..." The Admiral trails off, and she realises that the Six in question must not have a name (yet).

"A Six. It's alright to call her that."

He nods, accepting this. "Will they all take names?"

"My sisters will, with time. The Sharons (one name shared between them all)… Athena, will need to speak to them about that."

"And the Leobens?"

"Will be Leobens." She speaks no more on that matter. They do not push.

They reach Saul's quarters—hers now too—Laura squeezing her elbow affectionately in goodbye as the Admiral smiles slightly at her. She steps into her home.

She is not there long, has barely had time to sit down before he is barrelling through the door, finding her, his eye ablaze with ire.

"Saul." Her tone is soft, a welcome home. She is always pleased to see him. She is filled with love.

"Your..." There is a snarl in his voice as he begins to gesticulate with his hands in frustration.

"My what?" Her tone from soft to razor sharp, the flick of a blade.

He fires the word at her: "... clones."

"_Sisters._" She is rapidly losing her patience with him. "They are my sisters."

"Whatever." He barks a laugh, not without a streak of nastiness painted through it.

There is no limit to her love, only to how much she will offer it in the face of unkindness. She is harsh with her tone, determined with her words. "No. Not whatever. They are my sisters, my family. Yours too. Start dealing with that."

She watches him shake his head as if trying to prevent the words from entering. "Lady, they are not my family."

Her patience has been pulled taut—too taut. It snaps, and she turns to leave.

"Where the frak are you going?"

"Away from you." She heads for the door without a backwards glace.

"Caprica." His voice is weary, the fight drained from him in an instant, his shoulders slumping as she turns and walks back. She stops in front of him, in his personal space.

"Saul, you're Cylon. They're Cylon. Family is something different now. The Admiral, your brother…."

"Bill isn't my brother."

"Isn't he? He's your family, your oldest friend. I know what he means to you. Some things go beyond blood, beyond... mechanics." The word catches in her throat. "He's your family, we are family." She takes a breath, another small step forward. "Now, what about my sisters?"

"I... don't know."

She believes him, he doesn't. She knows that they are too the same and too different all at once. He is too used to just thinking of them as nameless machines, copies of copies of copies. So many of her sisters have names now—how alarming that is for everyone, the irony of everything being more confusing the more individual they all become. They share her face and she shares his bed and he shares their mechanical DNA. She knows his instincts still tell him to hate them, to kill them. They are Cylon, but then so is he now, always has been.

"It's not them." He whispers. (It is. It isn't.)

She trails the backs of her fingers down his cheek before turning her palm to rest against his skin. She feels the infinitesimal pressure of him leaning into her. "I know. You should go talk to Bill."

"I can't."

"You need to. I'll talk to my sisters."

"Stay the frak off that planet. The baby'll end up with extra arms or legs or whatever the frak."

Her heart quietly fills with joy at this concern. She knows well enough to not let it burst through her—he always pulls back, afraid of what is between them (of what that says of what he was, of what she is—both more human and Cylon than either knew how to deal with). "I'll use the comm."

She cannot stop herself from placing a tiny kiss against the corner of his mouth, is delighted when he turns towards her, kissing her fully.

She pushes him away lightly. "Go. He'll be in Joe's."

"How do you know... you and Roslin..."

She smirks, directly him back through the hatch.

The comm rings as the door closes behind him. She knows who it is before answering. Her hand strokes across her stomach, easing the child, easing herself. She answers "Saul just left."

Laura laughs softly down the line. "Bill too." They both smile, they will push these men to deal with each other, making all of their lives easier (better), even if it drives both men crazy first. "It occurs to me, Caprica, that apart from our initial landing on the planet (it escapes no-one that nobody refers to it as Earth), that you have not been off Galactica since..." (since her confinement had not been through choice.)

"Yes."

"I need to make a trip to Colonial One, I've left some files, Tory would usually...but, since she has..." She coughs slightly, struggling for an apt word. "Resigned (abandoned, defected)...I thought you might like the trip. I seem to be having a bout of Cabin Fever myself."

Caprica is struck by the invitation. A true branch of friendship extended, and more that than, Colonial One...the office of the President, accompanying the President herself, not as a prisoner or Cylon representative, but as herself. A change of scenery. "I would like that. Thank you."

"Good, 14:00, my office here."

"I can't imagine Saul or the Admiral will think this is a good idea."

"I can't imagine I'll care. This is how things are now. Hate takes more effort than I can afford, and it doesn't help." Caprica wonders if Laura has any idea that her model is the only one that truly understands such a statement. God has made her out of and for love. A woman that should be her enemy is now her friend, telling her that hate is not the path for them. This is why this woman leads, why others follow. Her hand extended in friendship, across a divide.

Perhaps they will _all_ stand astride it.


End file.
